Amsterdam

May 2015

Our third visit to Amsterdam was lovely; it's an easy-going city perfect for a short break and we always have a great time. Our previous visits have been in winter so a trip in spring is a welcome change, especially as on our first trip coincided with frozen canals and the lowest temperatures for 20 years. One of the main reasons we've come back again is to visit the newly refurbished and fully reopened Rijksmuseum as well as to enjoy a much needed holiday. Usually we opt for the Iamsterdam city card, but this only gives a 10% discount for the Rijks, so planning ahead I discover that there is also the 30 day Museumkaart which will get us in to everything the city card does, plus the Rijks, for free. Alongside a four-day travel pass from GVB it works out at much better value all round. Armed with this information and a clutch of train tickets we set off from Fratton on a promisingly sunny morning.

Booking a through ticket via Eurostar.com is both simple and usually excellent value as the Fratton to London portion can be very much cheaper this way and is valid for travel from whatever terminal you arrive at, across London, to St Pancras. However, every time we approach the underground clutching our Fratton to London International tickets, we are ever more certain that they will fail to open the barrier and we'll have to show them and explain ourselves to the busy TFL attendant to let us through. And then of course, out again. Why this should be is beyond me but these frustrations aside, boarding the Eurostar is as straightforward as ever and we're soon on our way.

Brussels midi station is still a bit on edge after the recent attacks, so the usually convenient escalator down from the Eurostar platform is closed.  We end up working our way around and down to find the Thalys departure area where no-one is as sure as our Eurostar train manager was as to which platform the train to Amsterdam will be leaving from. Twenty minutes, we are told, and all will become clear. Hanging about for this revelation in a rather stark waiting room is fine but there's no departure board in there or indeed any other information source so we're taking turns to check the board before our train appears proving the Eurostar announcer right all along. However, there's a little more confusion as we're initially directed towards the wrong train but a very helpfully strident platform assistant points everyone across to another Thalys arriving on the other side of the platform and we're soon hurtling through Belgium at speeds far in excess of those managed by even the fastest UK trains. A standard class seat in a Thalys is also much more comfortable, even if the much trumpeted WiFi is patchy at best.

Arriving in Amsterdam I realise my complacency in having been twice before means my planning has fallen short of actually getting to the hotel, I haven't even brought a map, so after buying our travel chipkaarts there's a few minutes working out where the hotel is exactly and what tram we need to catch to get there.

The hotel is in a very nice area by the Vondelpark and looks quite promising from the outside but once inside things get different very quickly. We have to pay in advance which is never a good sign, and there's no lift. We're on the third floor. Struggling up the increasingly steep stairs I manage to knock a picture off the wall before the stairs turn up the final flight almost vertically. The bed is great but the bathroom is pokey and a bit worn and, get this, we share a window with next door!

Tuesday

Breakfast is not included and at an extra €10 per person, not worth it, so we head off towards Museumplein for on the way is Bagels and Beans where we enjoy a fresh and tasty.breakfast in a funky setting before our visit to the Stedelijke, which is rapidly becoming my favourite modern art museum. Alongside the regular and intriguing exhibits there's a special exhibition of the Amsterdam School, the architectural style movement looking a lot like the bastard child of Charles Rennie Mackintosh and the Vienna Secession and absolutely fabulous.

Lunch is at our favourite old style (but actually modern) café up by the Blauwbrug. We discovered its welcoming embrace during our first visit that freezing February and spent half the afternoon lounging on their sofas drinking coffee and mulled wine and stroking the cat before venturing out into the cold again. Now unfortunately cat-less, it's still a nice place to go and we enjoy a fine sandwich before heading back to Foam, the photography gallery, where there's a couple of  thought provoking interpretations of the migrant crisis.

Our first two evenings have followed much the same course; beers at Het Hok before traditional Dutch fare at the very popular The Pantry two doors down. ''Traditional" here means various flavours of mash with a smoked sausage or giant meatball alongside other hearty cooking like ham hock and beef stew. The food is delicious and the atmosphere convivial.

Wednesday

Wednesday is all about the Rijksmuseum. Well, nearly all.
It's another sunny day as we stroll across Museumplein past the holocaust memorial and iamsterdam sign. The entrance to the museum is through the basement so, skipping the queues with our museumkaarts in hand, we dive in.

We spend more than half the day exploring the newly and brilliantly refurbished Rijks. And while much attention is focused on the "Gallery of Honour" with Rembrandt's Night Watch taking centre stage among some of the greats of the Dutch Golden Age, the lower galleries house examples of some of the most exquisite craftsmanship you can imagine and there are other stunning works at every turn. The museum displays are well organised, by date mostly, but it's worth taking some time to plan your way around as it's not necessarily obvious which is the best route to take. The first floor, for instance, is in two unconnected halves as the roadway cuts through it. All things considered it's a brilliant way to spend a few hours even if the lavatories are harder to find than you'd prefer.

After a late spot of lunch we head off across the city so we can visit Rembrandt's House again. Our route to Waterlooplein takes us for the first time in three visits along the metro, which is as clean and efficient as you'd expect and after a wander through the flea market we arrive. To my mind Rembrandt van Rijn was something of an alchemist with paint and a trip to this house museum is always a joy, for me at least. Today we are in time for the paint mixing demonstration and we discover they've recently opened the top floor showing the studio space his students would have used, and in the new building there's a great exhibition of nudes drawn by him and his contemporaries too.

Across the road is a bar on the canal and a much needed beer is enjoyed while watching the boats pass by. On the opposite corner of the canal, nesting in a half submerged boat, is a family of cootes and unfortunately one chick has got out onto the water. One of the parents desperately tries to persuade it back into the boat, a task seemingly beyond the chick's capabilities - the side of the boat is a good foot out of the water - unfortunately all to no avail as a seagull swoops down and carries the youngster away. Nature red in tooth and claw, so to speak, was not what we were expecting in this quiet corner of Amsterdam!

Today is also the day in the Netherlands when they remember the war dead. There's a two minute silence at 8pm and a big gathering in Dam Square with the King attending, which is throwing the tram schedules well out of whack and we end up walking most of the way back to the hotel for a rest before dinner. We've booked at the Koffiehuis van der Volksbond where we've dined on previous trips and it's just as lovely as before, even if it's a bit weird being there in daylight on a warm spring evening. A perfect end to the day.

Thursday

The following day is Liberation Day, a public holiday, and the crowds are out in force on another beautiful sunny day. We wander up to Dam Square with a view to seeing the World Press Photo exhibition at the Niewe Kerk but it doesn't open until the afternoon so we visit the fairly dull royal palace instead before pottering about the city centre and having a beer by the Niewe Maarkt.

After returning for the photography exhibition and some coffee and cake we decide it's high time we took to the water. There are boats of all types and sizes thronging the canals and more than one collision but it's wonderfully relaxed and good humoured and we have a ball.

Dinner is at a nice little restaurant in the centre that our friends have used before. There are no reservations taken at this very popular place so timing is everything. We get one of the last tables and enjoy a decent meal with excellent service.

Oh, and if someone offers you a Dutch salted caramel lolly just politely decline. If you don't, at some point later your mouth will be filled with the most hideous liquorice powder and you'll be left gagging into a nearby canal.

Friday

Friday morning sees us grabbing breakfast in a café near the station before catching the train home. Brussels' Eurostar experience is about the most relaxed of the three principal stations and aside from a brief stop at Calais, completing the set, we're back in London by (late) lunchtime. We're travelling back to Portsmouth via London Victoria and thanks to the ongoing disorganisation of British railway operators we stand, necks craned, staring at the departure boards for an eternity until just five minutes before departure it finally shows us which platform our train will be leaving from. This, naturally, precipitates a mad rush for a seat in the right part of the train before we can settle down for the final leg home.

Carbon saved: 50kg

Danubian Adventure - part two; Vienna

Day six of our holiday dawns and we're off to Vienna, picking up our tickets, first class this time, from the automatic machine at the station. The weather's turned, there's rain in the air, which by the time we reach the border is hitting the ground pretty hard. Budapest and Vienna are within spitting distance of each other and we roll into the Westbahnhof before lunchtime. Our hotel is six stops on the metro, near the Donaukanal. It looks a bit 1970s from the outside but is very comfortable and with a metro and tram hub right outside, handy for everything. The rain has eased and we wander into the centre and have a look round. I'm trying not to burst into song but there's a post-downpour mistiness and the steady beat of a synth drum in my head.

Just around the corner from Stephanplatz and its dark and brooding St. Stephen's cathedral, so different from its Hungarian namesake, is the Mozarthaus and we go in just as the rain restarts. The composer looms large across the cultural landscape of Vienna but despite this ubiquity we later manage to buy a small bust of Beethoven for our souvenir by mistake!
The museum is a fascinating tour through Mozart's life and times in one of his many Viennese houses with scores, a few instruments even some original décor. It also sets the record straight on the Salieri controversy. The rain has stopped again by the time we leave.

We've scouted out three options for dinner just round the corner from the hotel, but one of them is shut and another doesn't appear to be there any more so we head into the third. It advertises traditional Austrian fare and I'm down for an authentic Wiener schnitzel followed by apfel strudel. Obvious but so tasty. Sarah's main course comes in two halves it's so substantial. It seems a really genuine place, there's an old man and his very small dog at a table by the door and the patron is very friendly. We like it so much we eat here both nights.
A post dinner wander finds us back at the Stephansdom where an art installation is being projected on to the façade, and we stumble across a statue of Johannes Gutenburg, father of modern printmaking and arguably one of the most important figures of the second millennium.

Our second and only full day in Vienna is one filled with art and cake. It's bright and sunny again and we spend the morning in the MuseumsQuartier, principally visiting the Leopold Museum of modern art and being blown away by its brilliant Schiele exhibition as well as a well curated tour through the Vienna secession. After lunch and a quick tour round MuMoK it's time for a little more tradition.

We head off across the Burggarten towards the Opera, pausing to admire the large Mozart statue, and onward to the Café Sacher because today's afternoon tea just has to be the world renowned Sacher Torte. It doesn't disappoint. Wedges of chocolatey, cakey loveliness duly consumed, we catch a tram around the inner ring back to the hotel. It's been a few weeks since Eurovision and Conchita Wurst's famous win, but the trams are all decked in rainbow flags alongside the city standard.


The plan for our early evening entertainment before dinner is to visit the Wiener Riesenrad - cue bouzouki music...

We enter the park and the sounds of Mozart hit us again, this time accompanying the dodgem riders. The Ferris wheel dominates the otherwise modern amusement park and we buy our tickets joining the thankfully sparse queue. Halfway round it gets a little rocky and my hand gets a bit crushed as the vertigo strikes. Otherwise, it's a thrilling end to the day.

Our final day in the Austrian capital is even busier, even though our train leaves that evening. After dropping our bags at the station we spend the morning at the Hofburg Palace with its ridiculous displays of opulence and wealth. There's a museum devoted to the royal silver collection, elaborate place settings and the finest porcelain the Hapsburgs could plunder and a very interesting exhibition on the life of the Empress Elisabeth.
We pass out through the stables of the Spanish riding school, catching some of the white horses being groomed, and on to the Albertina gallery - also part of the palace complex. Curiously there's a large pink rabbit on the canopy and we decide to go in. This last minute decision to visit turns out to be very serendipitous as it's one of the rare occasions that the extraordinary Albrecht Durer drawings are on show, hence the rabbit. But that's not all, the whole collection is stunning.



We had planned to finish off the day at the market getting provisions for the evening, but first we visit the Secession Building. A stunning architectural statement and exhibition space it also houses Klimt's famous Beethoven Frieze. It's breathtaking.
Alongside the market, Vienna's version of the Hollywood walk of fame, the Musik Meile, is little more classy than its American counterpart, a succession of the great and good of classical music are represented; we spot Strauss, Berlioz, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven and of course Mozart before we wander off and spend a small fortune on our train picnic. There's a bar with a massive bottle of Aperol on display so we sit a while with a spritz but find we still have a couple of hours spare. We decide to bite the bullet and cram one more sight in so head off to the Belvedere Palace, a large gallery housed in the former summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy. It's a little way out of the centre and I have a minor internal panic about missing the train but half way round the tour is the reason we came; a heart-stopping room full of the most sumptuous works of Gustav Klimt. There's a small crowd gathered at the far end and as they move away, there it is; The Kiss in all its golden glory. A fitting climax to a wonderful trip, and one we nearly missed.

Vienna is so beautiful and we're sad to leave but the Cologne sleeper pulls out at 21:40 and we have to be on it. As we wait at the station we're briefly tempted to get back on a train to Budapest but we restrain ourselves and board the EuroNight train as planned. We tuck into our picnic with a glass or two of a tasty red and are asleep not long out of Linz. After a restful night, breakfast is taken as we speed along the beautiful Rhine Valley, waving to our friend Marlene in Remagen as we pass.

We have the rest of the morning to kill in Cologne and as it's right there by the station we visit the famous cathedral before joining the Brussels express for the Eurostar home.

Carbon saved: 210kg

May 2014

Casablanca part two: "...and back"

Casablanca is a huge, sprawling city of seven million souls. It's very busy and a bit grubby and there are really only two reasons for the tourist to visit; if you have an abiding interest in mosques, or to pay homage to the film (as I said at the start, the greatest film ever made, no argument). Another planning oversight means we've arrived on a Friday so the mosque is out - not open for tours on the holy day - which is a shame for us but we're only really here for Rick's anyway.

Here's looking at you, kid

Our hotel was on the edge of the old medina, but this is not Tangier and it's not that attractive. We find our way through it and along the main road to Rick's but we're the best part of an hour early. There's a square nearby with a park at its centre and a few cafés and we wander over an take a seat. It's not the usual tourist area, just an everyday café and we drink mint tea and watch the world go by. All sorts of people pass, all sorts of garb and modes of transport. Three young lads on a single moped nearly get taken out by a woman driving and texting but they make the gap before it closes.
Next door is a carpenter's shop and he arrives on scooter with the panels for a set of doors he's making. It's a lovely interlude and quite an interesting insight into life in Morocco's second city but Rick's is about to open and we need to be there on time.




Rick's Café Americain, the establishment at the heart of the film was obviously not a real place and the Rick's we are standing outside was only opened in 2004. It's heavy wooden doors open and we step in and secure a table for dinner, possibly one of the last available judging by how full it gets later. The interior is designed to be a faithful evocation of the movie version and it looks fantastic. I had feared it would be some awful pastiche but it's wonderful, just as you might imagine it would have evolved into over the intervening years, even in the hands of Señor Ferrari. The food is pretty good and the service is spot on, we have a wonderful evening.

Day 5: Casablanca to Algeciras

Back to Tangier

We have a fairly relaxed morning, the train back to Tangier isn't until after 11am so we can have a leisurely breakfast before checking out and getting another rickety red cab back to the station. Our driver this time is quite chatty and we discuss Morocco, the king, society and all the building work going on before he drops us off. Our train's already at the platform but we have time to get a sandwich to have later for lunch from a small concession stand before boarding. This time our co-occupants are an uptight looking French woman and a trio of young men who have the air of being 'up to something'. They spend half the journey to-ing and fro-ing and have a large wad of cash but they're no trouble and the journey is otherwise uneventful and we roll into Tangier 15 minutes late. The walk from the train to the station hasn't got any shorter and we need to go straight to the port to catch the ferry back to Tarifa so another taxi it is.

I can't help thinking that Tangier Port needs to start sorting its act out if it's to attract more cruise ships. Of course, the passport stamping requirements aren't their fault - a yellow form to fill in this time before a passport stamp to confirm we're leaving - but the boarding process could be streamlined and an escalator or two wouldn't hurt. There's a delay boarding as a nervous coach is coaxed on to the ferry and further delay when on board before we get under way at least half an hour behind schedule and, having boarded in daylight, it's now dark. I'm worried by now that we'll get stranded in Tarifa or get to the hotel in Algeciras after midnight, and the passport queue at the arrivals hall doesn't help matters. We also need Euros or we're walking the mile or so to the hotel. In the end, everything is fine; the bus is there, there's plenty of room and we get back to Algeciras in good order, there's an ATM and we get a cab to the hotel where there appears to be a dinner dance happening. Even better, the buffet restaurant is still open and we inhale a meal before turning in. Actually, just because our room has a balcony, we have a quick cuppa outside before bed.

Day 6: Algeciras to Madrid

The "rainforest" at the heart of Madrid's railway station

Up early for breakfast, we check out and get another cab back to the station. Our train is already there but the x-ray machine is not ready and it is ten minutes before we can board. This service takes us back through the Sierra Nevada, this time by a more direct route, and we arrive in good order at Madrid Atocha station which is Massive; there's a rainforest in the hall (with signs saying 'please don't abandon your turtles here'). We finally work out that we need to go up to the third floor to get out and across the car park to the chaotic three-lane taxi rank where we secure a cab, whiz round the ring road to the Puerta Toledo and are dropped outside Hotel Ganivet for our 3-night stay in the capital.

We like to go to a match if we can when visiting foreign cities and this time Atlético Madrid are at home. The stadium isn't far from the hotel so we decide to grab some lunch before wandering down to see if we can get a ticket for the match tonight. There are a couple of likely places around the Puerta Toledo and we sit down outside one, order a beer and a burger and relax. The family at the table next to us turn out to be English, and football fans also going to the match. In regular life they support Norwich City and we have a pleasant chat about football and our respective clubs before we head off to secure our tickets.

Vincente Calderón stadium is quite impressive and when we return the streets around it are thronged with fans from long before kick-off. We buy a packet of dried beans of some sort and some jelly sweets which turn out to be shaped like fingers. I don't know why, but sunflower seeds are de rigeur at a lot of foreign grounds and there are large piles of discarded shells under some of the seats when we leave. The match itself is very entertaining with Atlético running out comfortable winners despite a late and dubious penalty award to Valencia.

Day 7: In Madrid

First order of the day, after breakfast (standard hotel fare) is to get to the Prado before the queues get too long. Unprepossessing from the outside, the Museo Nacional del Prado is a treasure trove of the most wonderful works of art and well worth the €14 entry and more. Incidentally there's a ticket + guide book offer for €23 - take it; the guide book in question is a hefty tome, on sale in the shop for €19.50. It's hard to pick a highlight, Albrecht Durer's famous self-portrait is there, as well as the 'other' Mona Lisa. There's The Garden of Earthly Delights (Bosch), Fra Angelico's Annunciation, Rubens' Three Graces, and countless other brilliant and famous works. But the two that draw the most crowds, and for good reason, are Goya's 3rd May 1808 in Madrid and the famous and brilliant Velasquez portrait of Felipe IV's family; Las Meninas. We do our best and see most of what's on offer before we leave to get some lunch.

We decide to head for the Plaza Mayor, as recommended by our hotel clerk, but there ore no direct buses and the man in the information kiosk suggests it would be easier to walk the half mile or so. Madrid has buses by the thousand but they don't appear to go anywhere useful from any one starting point. We're tired and hungry and the walk is not much fun and we get there only to find it's subject to building work and lots of it. Eventually we choose to sit outside the Museo de Jamon for our lunch; a cold meat platter and pork chop/ham and chips. The building work that we thought was largely on the other side of the square starts in earnest right next to us spoiling any tranquillity we may have been enjoying and forcing us to flee, after paying, back to our hotel for a siesta.

We've booked an evening at a flamenco club, with dinner included, on the other side of town and thankfully the nearest metro line goes straight there, give or take a short walk. Doors don't open until 9:30pm with the show starting half an hour later. Madridians do not seem to eat before 9pm at the earliest and it's difficult to get used to but here we are, eager and hungry at Tablao Flamenco La Quimera and we're shown to a table right by the stage, front and centre. The food is simple but welcome and there's a glass of wine included for good measure. The show itself is extraordinary. This is not some touristy, night club version, but the genuine flamenco experience; three dancers, a guitarist and cantor entertain us for nearly two hours (with a break) with the most fabulous display of flamenco dancing, hot and sweaty. It's over and we're down in a tube station at midnight for the ride home.

Day 8: In Madrid

Last day in Madrid and we decide to take the tourist bus, eventually finding the nearest stop around the corner from the hotel. It's not a bad way to see the city but the weather's changeable so the roof remains closed for the morning, and some of the headphone sockets don't work. The gallery we want to see is closed on Tuesdays so we go back round to the royal palace. We grab a quick beer before going in but it's not as quick as we'd hoped and the day is turning out a lot colder than we'd expected. The palace itself is fronted by a large parade ground with stunning views over the landscape to the south, opposite this is the cathedral (because we wouldn't want the little royal dears to have to go far to church, would we?). Anyway, the palace itself shows off royal wealth and privilege in all it's hideous glory; chock full of sumptuous décor and furnishings in this still "working" palace but no photos allowed. The cathedral opposite is quite nice but nothing special.

There's another art collection in town and we decide to visit, grabbing a quick coffee and apple tart in its café before we start. It's the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza a once private collection of the most stunning art. We start with the temporary exhibit of Edvard Munch works themed by mood, which is an eye-opener, and then head for the main collection. We're about half way round and have to stop to take stock of what we've seen. The collection is so vibrant, it's astounding the breadth and quality of the work on show from El Greco and Caravaggio through Van Gogh and Degas to Matisse, Chagall, Rodin, Picasso all the way to Rothko and beyond. We are really glad we made the effort.



We go to catch a tour bus back round to the hotel area but it's approaching 6pm and they're scaling back operations so we have to wait about half an hour in the now very cold evening for a bus that's still working. We get back at about 7pm. A quick freshen up before we go out again for dinner. We've got a very early train to catch so we decide to eat early and locally at the Taberna Oliveros. What a joy this was, even though we nearly died of a chick pea overdose. It's a charming place, all tiles and quirky features with an attentive owner who appreciated our willingness to try the hearty local food, nearly killing us with kindness and dessert. A great finale to our time in the Spanish capital.

Day 9: Madrid to Paris

5:10am and the station is virtually deserted. The man at the x-ray machine won't start it up until quarter past so we wait. The train isn't until 6:05 but I'm habitually early, allowing time for every potential setback. Our train gets to Barcelona at 8:40 and it's full of businessmen even though it seems a strange commute, "Pride" is showing again and we're halfway there before the sun pokes its head above the horizon.

Breakfast at Barcelona Sants before we get the TGV back to Paris. This time we travel the coast in daylight and the promised flamingos are duly sighted, standing round in clumps in the Etang de la Palme and other coastal waters. Heading north from Montpellier, the weather turns wetter until we near Paris and much of the journey is spent dozing after such an early start to the day.

Our hotel for the night is 200m from Gare de Lyon and we find it quite easily. It's not a bad room but the whole place could do with a spruce up. We need to find somewhere for dinner and the nearby A La Biche Au Bois looks a likely place and it turns out to be a gem, and a very popular one too. We were very nearly turned away but they managed to find us a table for what was a great meal, topped off with a magnificent cheeseboard; oh, that Brie! Suitably stuffed, we waddle back to the hotel. Thankfully I've had the foresight not to book an early train.

Day 10: Home

Not much more for me to add. A croissant and coffee at a local café, the RER back to the Gare du Nord avoiding the large pile of vomit in the carriage, sitting in the always uncomfortable Eurostar terminal waiting for a slightly delayed train, habitual pasty at Waterloo before a better than usual SWT train to Fratton.
Home from one of our better holidays.


Carbon saved: 270kg

October 2015